Eyes of the Storm
by zomgkateh
Summary: Celeste, blind daughter of a poor farrier is forced to trade her in order to clear his debt. Whilst being brought to her new home at the Count's manor she is separated & stumbles upon the beast's castle asking for sanctuary. What else could happen? OCs.
1. A Woeful Deal

"...But father! Surely there is someone else we could trade to the Count in order to settle our debt?"

Her eyes widened as her father explained the situation to her. The Count de Laurent had taken offense to her father's tax delinquency in recent years, lacking the compassion to understand how hard times had become and her poor father was making barely enough to sustain himself and his only child, as well as their part-time housekeeper. The money he made as a farrier could barely cover food and supplies the maid needed to take care of the house let alone pay their taxes. Now, the Count had come to his door with an escort earlier in the day with a warning that if her father did not come up with the money he owed then he would be put straight into jail.

Her father, Alexander, was not privy to that idea at all. Although it was the worst kind of luck, he had been fortunate to have the Count's focus temporarily swayed onto his only child, the stubborn, fire-hearted girl although you'd never know it. It was then that the Count made a deal, trade his daughter and in exchange his debt would be erased and he'd even make a small fortune from the trade.

Alexander was shocked by the proposal. But, of course the offer was irrefutable and he unwillingly signed over his daughter to the Count.

"No, Celeste. He specifically asked for you, I'm afraid there is no room to alter the trade," he said with such woe, sitting down at their table and wiping his brow with a dirtied rag.

His strong body fought the urge to shake, unable to grasp the severity of what he had done, although he knew he would have had to do it at some point in time. He could not marry off his daughter, a woman in her state was considered practically worthless, unlucky even. What man would marry her? The chances of their offspring having the same ailments could be so very high and to most, that just would not do.

Although she felt as if she knew their small cottage so well, knowing where everything was set up in order to avoid them it was those small little variations in the floor plan when guests sat and moved chairs that threw her off. Her delicate hands searched for the back of a chair to guide her into the seat, of which her father reached out to her and helped her to the chair.

"Father, are you sure? I mean, what could I even do for him? I am practically worthless around the house as it is," she replied as she tried to look in his direction though no matter how she tried she couldn't make eye contact.

Most of the time she could find his eyes, but today she just didn't have the strength and she looked as if she were looking past him. His face was exceptionally blurry today, as was everything else around her. All she saw was flecks and blobs of color, but usually she could find his. Green, the same color of the ones her father claimed she had. She'd never seen her own eyes for as long as she could remember. She'd never seen anything, really. Everything she knew, she relied on imagination. How could she be of any help to a Count, like this?

"I am not sure my dear...I am not sure. He said he'll return in a few days time, and you could pack one single bag to carry with you," he replied, holding his daughter's hand. "I sorry Celeste...there's nothing else to be done."


	2. Goodbye

She spent the next few days preparing. Packing, or rather letting her father pack, what little things he could fit into a small chest. Celeste spent the rest of her time in town rather than at home, asking others in town what the Count was really like and when she heard the stories she felt her stomach turning into knots and her breakfast wanted desperately to come up. The stories were horrid, and she only hoped they weren't true. She prayed that he wasn't as cruel to his staff as she'd been made to believe. She hoped he didn't beat his maids at every wrong turn, she hoped he didn't take them into his bed forcefully when he just happened to feel the urge.

Did he not have a wife, the countess? Where was she in all of this? Busy taking care of his legitimate children, people said. The maids who happened to conceive were forced to send their children away as soon as they could walk, to keep them from ever being able to claim that the Count fathered them. Celeste could just picture herself getting beaten daily, just because she knew she'd be clumsy and slow. She felt like he had just requested her to be his punching bag.

She let her feelings stew, and although she would have liked to have formulated a grand scheme to let herself go free she knew she'd only be able to rely on luck. Luck was what would bring her out on the other side unharmed.

Later that night, her father and herself sat by the fire in their house for one last time. In the morning, she would be collected and escorted to her new home, the Count's manor. This would be the last night they could be together. He'd never see her again.

"Celeste," he started, staring into the small fire they had going in the fireplace. He then leaned forward to her, sitting across from him and he held out his hand. "Hold out your hand please."

She did so, and when her palm opened a long necklace with a tiny pendant dropped into her possession. "What is this?"

"It was your mother's. She told me to give it to you when you were to be married, but I figure now would be as good of a time as any. Something for you to remember this house by."

It was a little thing, a metal chain that was practically worthless with a tiny little pendant flecked in tinier bits of sapphire that barely measured the head of a pin. To her father, it was an expensive gift he'd given his wife many years ago, even though the gems were too small for anyone of nobility to care. He even debated selling it once or twice, but the memory of his past wife made him keep the little trinket.

Celeste grinned and put it around her neck, playing with the little pendant. Even though she couldn't see its beauty, she could feel it was important and there was so much energy coming from it. If she wanted to kid herself, she'd even say she felt her mother's presence upon it. "Thank you, papa."

The next morning, two guards came on horseback with a third steed in tow and stopped at their door to collect the poor girl. Hoisted atop the speckled grey horse, her chest was tied to his saddle and without allowing her much of a goodbye she was led away to what she dreaded to be her new home.


	3. The First Storm

She clung to her horse's saddle tightly, afraid of falling and it was obvious she wasn't used to actually being on a horse too much. She was definitely used to being around them considering her father was around them constantly, but he'd never allowed her to mount one in fear of her injuring herself or the animal. So, this experience was quite unnerving and she could hear the guards chattering on and making fun of her fright. My, if she was on solid ground and had a broom she'd be smashing them with one! How rude of them. She huffed a discontented sigh and wiggled her nose, feeling a droplet of rain touch her skin. Great. Just what she needed, a good rain to soak her and get her sick. She hoped the guards would stop if the rain came down too hard, maybe giving her a bit more time to herself.

But oh, was that a dream. The rain poured, but somehow the guards pressed on. Something about a 'deadline' was what she could hear over the falling rain, although it soon turned into a downpour and then a horrible wind that blew in twenty different directions. She felt her dress clinging to her skin and she shivered constantly, unable to get any warmth. Yet, even though the guards were soaked as well they pressed forward.

It wasn't long until the skies darkened into an ominous purple and grey, of which brilliant streaks of lightning lit up the sky and crashed into the ground. The first seemed far away, but then they got closer and closer until it was practically upon them. The monstrous crash hit a tree near their path and it spooked the horses, one of the guards' horses rearing in a frantic panic while the other bucked and pulled away in horror. Celeste's horse also panicked, tossing its head and scrambling around considering it was tied to the others. It just kept pulling at its lead over and over while the other two panicked and bucked, until it finally got its lead loose and the speckled grey horse took off with Celeste holding on for dear life. She had a death grip in its mane as it galloped off in an unknown direction, running at full speed with fear in its eyes.

It took a good while for the guards to calm their horses down and by then Celeste and her runaway mount were long gone. Circling their horses and looking around for tracks, the both of them cursed at the sky for they both knew she'd been lost in the storm.

"What'll we do, Claude? We can't tell the Master that she got lost."

"We'll tell him that she ran away from us. She looked for the opportune time to try and separate, and that was the last we saw of her. He'll be mad, but more-so at her poor soul than us."

The grey horse continued its frantic run for miles, jumping over fallen trees and small creeks until it reached something impassable. Iron gates, with a high stone wall surrounding the property. The animal skidded to a halt and the momentum almost threw Celeste from the saddle yet somehow she stayed on. When she felt the horse was stopped for sure, she carefully slid off the saddle and holding its lead rope she felt around with her hands. Touching the iron gate, she tested its strength and found that it opened with some form of ease. Pushing it open and then closing it behind her, she walked forward until she hit a door.

Letting go of her horse's lead, she turned and put a single finger to her lips.

"Hush ma petite, and stay here please. You have my things, after all."

She then pushed the door open and stepped inside as her voice echoed into the grand entrance.

"Hello? Is anyone here? Hello?"


	4. Hello, girl

A deep shiver ran down her spine as her echo seemed to go on forever. Was whatever place she'd stepped into so grand that its walls never ended? That its ceiling was so high that the sound of her voice could never reach the top and reverberate? Then again, she might have stepped into some abandoned place. After all, the gate had been easy to push and not even locked and usually those with enough wealth to have a gated property were always sure to lock the gate and have someone in charge of the gate at all times.

Yet, she just couldn't really believe the place was empty, for she could just barely notice the bit of yellow fading in and out like a beacon as if candles were lit. Many a candle actually, the room wasn't as dark as she thought it could be and certainly it was nightfall outside. Therefore, someone had to be living here. Why could they not hear her? She pulled her hood off of her head to maybe dry her hair and face off in hopes it'd shelter her from sickness for a short while. Damn everything if she was to catch a cold from her misfortune, that would just top her cake.

"Hello?" She yelled once more, but yet again she was only greeted with the echo of her own call and nothing, or no one, else.

"This is ridiculous...someone has to be here. Why would candles be lit?" She whispered to herself, hoping to rationalize with herself that she wasn't crazy.

She really was seeing lights, right? She was just about to call herself crazy until oddly, a glow caught her attention. She could make things out too well, but it seemed like the glow was coming from some other room. Against her better judgment (which told her to stay put, it was quite rude to go wandering about in someone else's home), she decided to work her way towards that faint light. Her hands moved in front of her just a bit, enough to stop her should she walk into something.

Somehow, she managed to get quite a good way across the room until she was stopped dead in her tracks. She felt this rush of cold air come across her, making her poor little frame shiver and hug her arms close to try and keep some warmth in. But alas, it wasn't the rush of air that stopped her so abruptly, it was the sound that came with it.

She could only describe it as a horrible, ear smashing growl. She couldn't even imagine what it could have come from. Its sound was so deep that it couldn't have come from a wolf nor a tiger, something larger. A bear? She could just imagine a bear-like creature roaring at her right now. She wanted to scream in sheer terror, yet she swallowed her screams and let them fall into her stomach as she stood as still as a statue. Her hands felt like they were shaking a bit, though nothing all that noticeable. Her terror would only be known by scent, the smell of fear would be permeating from her poor little body.

The growl dissipated into a more quieter tone, although she could tell that whatever she'd encountered wasn't all that happy with her. Her imagination decided to run off again and she pictured herself being torn apart limb from limb by this monster, devoured as a meager dinner. After all, she didn't have much meat on her bones. She'd be like an appetizer for whatever she'd encountered. Eyes shut and she let that imagination loose, embracing the idea of death by animal for it'd be better than the Hell she'd endure under the rule of her master, her employer the Count.

But then, something unexpected came forth.

"What are you doing here? You're trespassing, girl."

Her tightly shut eyes then opened in pure shock, and through the muddles of color she'd seen before she was now seeing blobs of brown and gray in the shape of something, though the most peculiar thing was most astonishing; she could see two flecks of a cerulean hue which she could only guess were its eyes. But...it spoke? The thing spoke? What exactly had she encountered? Her jaw slacked, words unable to form as she tried to get her mind in order and not the jumbled mess that it felt like right now. Her brain felt like a flan collapsing in a cupboard, the matter was just..not doing what it was supposed to. She surmised she looked quite dumb right now, but there was nothing to be done of it.

"Well? Can you even speak, girl? Or do I repulse you so much that I've taken all words from you?" The voice then boomed, impatience seeping through every little syllable in his tone.

She huffed at his snappiness, her shocked face mashing into a pout of sorts. "I don't know what you're talking about." If he wanted to be rude, she can dish it right back. She wasn't going to succumb the idea of being kicked around like a dog by this..._whatever it was_.

Was she mocking him? Pretending not to see his appearance? How could anyone miss his rough and matted fur, his razor teeth that could rip through flesh like cutting through paper? His massive frame, barrel chest and wolf's tail? He wasn't something that could be mistaken for anything but a monster, he was well aware. So why would this girl just dance around the idea like this was play? He snorted at the idea, even growled at it as he chose his words.

"Don't play dumb with me girl! What are you, blind?"

And oh, did he eat his words after that.


	5. An Impasse

The realization didn't come fast enough. If he had paid even a lick of attention to the stance of his intruder, he would have noticed the cause of her words and he wouldn't have pressed the manner. But no, he instead had to stoke the fire, fan the flames, and everything in between. Had he been more studious, more aware of her rather than jumping to his own conclusions he would have seen it. Her gaze was not actually fixed upon him but rather past him slightly, like she didn't really know where he stood. She might have had a basic idea and he commended her for having some kind of awareness about her, to pay attention to everything as closely as it seemed she was doing. Yet, time had a funny way about itself; it always moved forward and one could never rewind it. So, his words were permanently etched into the recent past and maybe for a long time with her. He wanted to apologize, but he didn't even get the chance.

She felt her jaw clenching, her brow wrinkling and mashing her face even further into a scowl. He was on the edge of her nerves as it was, but to have the audacity to even mutter such a horrid sentence was beyond her tolerance. Eyes narrowed under her angry brow, and she took in quite a breath and through her mouth as it were. The air even sounded as it slipped between her dainty little teeth.

"Play dumb? How dare you! You won't let me get a word in edgewise, you make assumptions and jump to your foolish, uninformed conclusions and you're calling me _dumb_?" she finally blurted from her mouth, her tone unwavering and cross as if she were scolding some child. By his attitude, he certainly acted the part. "If you ever speak like that again to me I swear on my mother's grave I'll have your neck!"

After her little outburst, a certain silence seemed to come over the both of them and the room felt a little heavy even for it being so grand. He didn't have the courage nor decency to apologize, and she had no indications of rolling over and submitting. The two strangers were at an impasse for a good few moments, until someone finally got the bullocks to speak up again.

His eyes, albeit a little miffed still, softened up some as he noticed how miserably wet her clothes were. He knew the storm outside was a disgusting one, he wouldn't have wanted to go out and hunt even if he were starving. He knew the feeling of wet fur sticking to his skin and matting in an uncomfortable manner, and he only slightly recalled the feeling of wet clothes against skin. How it made one bitterly cold and caused the affected to come down with a chill or a cold. Although the years of his curse had embittered him to a point, he still had an ounce of compassion in him. He looked away for a moment, but soon enough his blue eyes met her scowling green ones and he sighed.

"Your clothes are soaking wet. I have a fire going, you can dry off and maybe we can start over."

He took a chance then, and extended a paw in her direction in the hope that she'd have the bravery to take hold of it. As soon as he saw her attempt to reach forward, he extended his paw even further and it was then that the beast's paw and Celeste's hand met.

She seemed a little surprised, still not quite able to picture in her head what this creature looked like but at least now she had an image of his hands. She flinched slightly when she felt the rough pad that felt like a dog's, and the slight prick of his claws though she soon enough learned to steer clear of them. Bits of fur tickled her cold skin and all she could picture in her head that he was some kind of big wolf-like thing.

She could have run by now. If she'd just turned about, hiked up her skirt and took off out the door she could have gotten away. But what good would that do? She was lost as it was, why would she dare run right into her doom? She had no food with her, nothing to keep her alive but a bit of clothes strapped to that horse's saddle. They'd find her dead body within a day or two, limp and laying across her wandering mount's back. No, she would not jump right into Hell like that. She needed help, and although she did not want this creature's aid, it was better than nothing. So, she mustered up every ounce of courage she had and let the beast lead her away.


	6. Wounded Bird

He could tell that she was wary of him. She had every right to be! his monstrous appearance was enough to scare even the bravest of souls away, so it was a wonder that her own imagination hadn't taken root and sent her fleeing away from his castle. But then he had to remind himself that it wasn't that easy for her; as if she was a bird and her wing was broken, she had no means of escape and survival. A bird could not survive without flight, so neither could she without her sight. His stomach seemed to sink at the thought, his own guilt settling in. She had no choice but to stay here, and to practically be forced into this situation by circumstances out of her control had to be gut-wrenching. She probably was having such trouble composing herself, trying to keep her fear and disgust from bubbling to the surface, to her scent. He didn't know if he could tolerate her remaining here without causing his stomach to turn in guilt.

But he was getting ahead of himself. _'She hasn't even asked to stay here, fool. Don't get your fur up in a bunch.'_ He snorted gently to himself and brought her to stand in front of one of the chairs in his parlor.

"I can hang up your cape to dry by the fire," he said, breaking their silence once more. Their conversations still felt awkward since their little stand-off, he wasn't sure if he was pressing her buttons or not and thus he treaded carefully. He took care to watch her expressions, looking for the slightly twinge of facial muscle to tell him to back down, but as it looked she seemed oddly content. He watched as she unhooked the soaked, aubergine colored cape and she offered it with an outstretched hand. Plucking the thing from her delicate hands, he draped it near the fireplace to get it drying. He tried to be careful, for his claws he knew could slice through most anything and he surely didn't wish to tatter her only belongings.

He had been so focused in his small task that he hadn't noticed that she was still standing. Eyes darting to the side, his velveteen ears perked as he noticed it. "You can sit, there's a chair behind you I assure you," he spoke, though he could see it in her face she wasn't all that pleased with him. However, she seemed to let her own angst pass and with that being said she sat her little self down and set her hands folded in her lap.

She wasn't particularly fond of being told what to do. She knew there was a chair there, she could feel its presence near where she stood not to mention her arm had gently brushed up against the back of it as she was led to her seat. She thought she was being polite, standing where she was, but apparently she could do away with at least some of the formalities she was accustomed to following back in her own house. Her gaze then softened a bit when she came to the realization that she was not home, safe, nor did she know where she was. The only thing that felt like a constant in her reality at this point in time was that storm, still going on outside. She could hear the heavy raindrops pattering loudly against the window panes, as if torrents of water were coming down to swallow the world whole. She was amazed the area wasn't ridden with a flood from the power of this storm. She wondered if the storm would pass by morning, or if the sky would be weighed down with rain for another few days. She sighed a little at her own thoughts, though the gesture was far from noticeable.

She heard him sit down in a chair eventually. She wasn't sure if he was right across from her or slightly off to the side, but he definitely had sat somewhere. She felt like she heard something of a great weight fall onto something, like a cushion. The sound of fabric rustling slightly when someone takes a seat upon it, only this sound was amplified. Her eyes snapped in the direction of the sound, of which she could make out the earthy color of her beastly captor. Or rather, in recent light of things, her savior? She reached behind her and pulled her hair free from the lavender ribbon that kept her wild locks in check, ringing her thick mop of hair free of most of the water though it'd have to dry the rest of the way on its own. It seemed to waste a good few moments of time before conversation had to yet again be struck.

"The storm is still quite bad out there, isn't it?" she asked, of which all she could notice from him was a nod in agreement. Or something along those lines, that is. He'd have to get accustomed to being more verbal, that was for sure. "Might I be able to stay here until it passes? I have a horse with some of my things standing outside, he could use some shelter as well..." she then said, though it was like pulling teeth from her. She was prideful, that was true. She had the notion that she had to be as independent as possible and asking for any help was like showing weakness. She didn't like to be thought of as weak, not at all. Thus why she wasn't all too happy with him assuring that there was a chair there for her.

His head turned slightly toward her at the question, those velvet ears perking again as he pondered the thought. "It would be cruel of me to send you away into the storm again. So yes, you may stay. As long as you like, even." His tone was even, being cordial as he could possibly be. He still felt tense around his strange guest, but that would be remedied the longer she chose to stay. "But you must tell me something first."

"And what is that?" she asked.

"How did you get to my grounds, where were you headed? And why were you alone?"


End file.
